


ooc (boku rashiku)

by thunderylee



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, M/M, One sentence of smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tegoshi has feelings.





	ooc (boku rashiku)

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

All Tegoshi could think is that Massu was being seriously out of character right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to complain much with the strong embrace that seemed to be the only thing holding his world together.

He’d made it until the very end of the tour. He’d made it through the interviews, the promotions, and all of the rehearsals, though the shows were the worst. Seeing the fans reminded him that even though it’s just him and Massu right now, this is all that will stay the same, and everything he’s been ignoring for two and a half months just shoves past his barriers to the surface in one fluid rush.

For one of the first times in idol history, Tegoshi Yuuya _felt_ something on stage. He’d known going in that singing Sakura Girl would be emotional – they both had – but he knew he could handle it. He could _make_ himself handle it. Tegoshi probably had more control over his impulse reactions than anyone he knew, and it wasn’t just from psychology courses.

Being an idol, to Tegoshi, means always wearing a positive face and sharing happiness. That’s the whole purpose of being one. Idols are who everyone looks to in rough times to cheer them up. Tegoshi likes being that person who can brighten someone’s day just with a smile, or a song, or just some simple, inspirational words.

While he’s sat on a lot of laps in his time, coddled by the elder members and senpai for no reason at all, Tegoshi hasn’t exactly had a reason to be _comforted_ before. The last big blow to NEWS left them with almost a year of downtime, with at least a few months before TegoMasu was assembled and shipped off to a foreign country, but that’s nowhere near the same as embarking on a Japanese tour just a couple weeks after receiving the news.

Right now, in Massu’s arms that wrap tightly around him from behind, he feels like he can finally grieve. It makes him feel so dumb to think of it that way, because it’s not like anyone died, but his heart aches similarly. He may not understand it, but that’s just how it is, and he hadn’t known how much he wanted to cry until this moment.

“You’re so stubborn, you know that?” Massu says into his hair, which is still wet from the bath.

Tegoshi nods, because he does. That’s one thing he understands perfectly right now.

Massu’s short laugh calms him down, though the fact that he’d been anxious at all surprised him. Tegoshi was always so put-together; falling apart like this is a completely new feeling.

“You can cry, if you want,” Massu tells him. “I won’t judge you.”

“I’m not sixteen anymore,” Tegoshi mutters, stubbornly. It’s a defense mechanism he wasn’t aware of, because he’s never needed to use it.

“Neither am I,” Massu says. “You think I didn’t cry? I did. I just didn’t do it in front of you. I didn’t want you to see me so weak. Or violent, actually, since I almost punched a hole in my wall.”

Tegoshi shudders at the thought, and he knows Massu feels it. “I would rather be angry than sad,” he admits. “I just…”

He trails off, but Massu doesn’t speak. He doesn’t prompt him to continue or fill in the silence. He waits, patiently, squeezing Tegoshi with all of his strength and Tegoshi’s never felt more supported than he does right now. Right now, he can face the world.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” he finally says. “I just feel it.”

“You don’t have to understand everything,” Massu tells him, loosening his grip enough to turn Tegoshi around, and now Tegoshi sees the sternness on Massu’s face. Also uncharacteristic. “Wasn’t it you who said to just do what feels right? Take your own advice.”

Tegoshi doesn’t realize he’s biting his bottom lip until it starts to hurt, but it’s not pain that stings the corners of his eyes. “I can’t-” he starts, shaking his head, and thankfully he’s relieved from having to speak by his face being smashed into Massu’s shoulder.

And Tegoshi lets it out. He’s such a vocal crier, especially when it’s something he’s been suppressing for so long, but Massu doesn’t cringe. Massu just holds him tight and pats his back, strokes his damp hair and whispers encouraging words, and soon Tegoshi’s shaking so badly he can barely stand up. But that’s okay, because Massu’s got him.

He has no idea how much time passes before his eyes run dry, though the overflowing feelings still consume him. He starts to pull back, but Massu doesn’t let him go very far, though Tegoshi suspects it’s more out of concern for his balance than anything else.

“I’m so ugly when I cry,” Tegoshi says lightly, offering a small smile as he brings his hands to his face, but Massu grabs him by the wrists.

“We have two different pairs of eyes, then,” Massu says firmly, “because this is one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.”

Tegoshi’s first instinct is to laugh at him, so he does. It feels so nice to laugh again, genuinely, and Massu just shakes his head and accepts Tegoshi back into his arms as the younger man is now releasing feelings of a different kind into his shoulder.

“Sometimes I don’t know why I bother with you,” Massu says, but he’s squeezing Tegoshi in a tight hug.

“Stay with me tonight,” is all Tegoshi says, and Massu doesn’t argue.

He dreams of magic and sparkle explosions.

*

Fast-forward four months. Tegoshi had put it off as long as he could, but Koyama’s new apartment is now inhabited by the last four NEWS members standing – or sitting, as they were – as they watch the TegoMasu no Mahou concert DVD.

Tegoshi has to admit, there’s much more room on the couch now, even if that’s both comforting and depressing at the same time. Massu’s sticking close to him, because he _knows_ , but Koyama and Shige are bouncing along with the upbeat songs and smiling proudly during the slow ones. (In Shige’s defense, he’s a little drunk; Koyama usually acts like this.)

All four of them are silent upon the beginning notes of Sakura Girl. When Tegoshi stops to think about it, it’s kind of funny that _that_ is the song they associate with their most recent departed members, because it’s an angsty breakup song about _girls_. But that doesn’t change the atmosphere in Koyama’s living room right now, which isn’t pierced until Shige speaks.

“It’s not like you to not want to look at your own face,” he says, poking Tegoshi in the arm, and Tegoshi realizes he’s been staring at the table. He offers Shige a half-smile because he knows Shige’s just trying to lighten up the mood; Shige has long since had his resentful recovery period.

“Leave him alone, Shige,” Massu says warningly, and Tegoshi doesn’t move. He doesn’t have to – the Tegoshi on the screen is moving enough for both of them.

Predictably, Koyama’s voice is choked. “Tegoshi looks like he has so many feelings.”

“I’ve never seen you like that before,” Shige adds.

Tegoshi swallows, hard, and Massu’s hand is on his back. It’s not subtle by any means, but if the other two notice anything different than usual, they don’t let on. Or maybe his pixelated emotions are enough to distract from the fact that Massu is willingly making physical contact with him off camera.

No one speaks until the song is over. Shige chugs more of his beer, but Tegoshi feels Koyama’s eyes on him and slowly looks around Shige to where his new leader is staring at him fondly.

“That,” Koyama says slowly, “was the most _real_ I’ve ever seen you on stage.”

Shige nods, much more casually, and he offers Tegoshi a sympathetic look as his now empty can returns to the table. “I think it would be good if you sang like that more often.”

“From the heart,” Koyama adds, and Tegoshi admires how they can ping-pong off of each other after so long of being best friends.

His first instinct is to argue, to spew everything he’s always believed about how an idol should present himself, but Massu’s hand weighs on his back and all he does is nod, feeling like everything he’s ever known is wrong.

He can’t actually think of anything to say, to articulate his feelings into words, but nobody pushes him to speak. They watch the rest of the concert in much brighter spirits – or maybe that’s just Tegoshi – and when it’s over, Tegoshi’s smile feels foreign on his own face.

Because it’s real.

*

Deep down, somewhere under the makeup and plastic happiness, Tegoshi was aware of his feelings. The true ones, not the ones he plays off to the media. He remembers all the girls (and boys) who broke his heart, at five years old and at fifteen, and he remembers all the mean things people have said about him. He remembers his questionably sane mother who _still_ calls him her precious little girl, though it hasn’t bothered him or hindered his development as much as everyone thinks. Identity and sexuality are two things he’s never really been confused about.

He remembers when NEWS was first formed and there was so much animosity, then the reformation three years later. He remembers all of the distance and conflict when Yamapi started getting solo work and Kanjani8 grew in popularity. He remembers watching everyone pretend everything was fine and wondering if they liked how it felt to be him every day.

All of that, he ignored. It was easy. His role in NEWS molded this caricature of himself that didn’t have any negative feelings, who did cute things and was “harmlessly self-centered.” Everyone liked this Tegoshi, especially the other NEWS members. They all had their roles, too. Part of their role was to love Tegoshi. Tegoshi saw no problem with this arrangement, and as time went on, it became a part of him to act, look, and even think that way.

Shige had joked about him never looking away from his own face, but Tegoshi is always so amazed that he can pull off such flawless expressions and gestures. He feels like he’s looking at someone else when he watches himself perform. It’s like he’s an idol robot who’s programmed to move and react a certain way, yet he does it on its own. He supposes it’s still vain even in that context, but that just goes along with who he’s supposed to be.

And now, once he’s finally opened the gates to his true feelings that have been locked up for so many years, all of these memories are at the forefront of his mind. Good and bad, hurtful and joyful, a drastic contrast of emotions that have him feel bipolar as he mentally moves from one to the next.

After a couple weeks of this, he has a constant headache. NEWS is moving forward as four members and single promotions are in full swing, Tegoshi’s idol face returning as naturally as if it were real. In a way, it is; Tegoshi feels happy and positive with the other three, genuinely, and he’s too busy to let anything else get in the way of that. He loves working with them and making decisions with them and even arguing with them (especially Shige), and most of all he’s grateful that NEWS can still carry on as four. He knows he’s not the only one.

“You okay?” Massu asks him as they leave after a meeting. “You’re unusually quiet.”

“I’m often quiet with my friends,” Tegoshi tells him, hugging himself even though it’s not that chilly outside. “I like to sit and observe, listen instead of talk. There’s nothing wrong; that’s just who I am.”

It takes him a second to realize Massu has stopped walking, and when Tegoshi turns around to look at him, his face looks hurt. “How much of it was a lie?”

“How much of yours is?” Tegoshi shoots back. “We were all given our roles to play, you know that.”

“None,” Massu answers. “I’m not a good enough actor to fake being someone else for that long. With you guys, _and_ with the fans, this is the real me. I don’t know who else to be. Especially on stage, I don’t think I could fake that if I tried.”

“Masuda-kun’s singing has always been from the heart,” Tegoshi says tonelessly, unsure of whether he’s pleased or jealous. “It’s part of your idol charm.”

“It could be yours, too,” Massu says pointedly. “And since when do you address me so impersonally?”

Tegoshi pauses, wondering when ‘Massu’ stopped and ‘Masuda-kun’ began. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to feeling like this at work-”

“Even if it’s not ‘Massu’,” Massu cuts him off. “It’s insulting to be so formal after all we’ve been through. It’s cute when you do it on stage, but not right now.”

Tegoshi blinks. NEWS’ Tegoshi would tease Massu about saying he’s cute, but this Tegoshi fixates on ‘after all we’ve been through’, and it weighs on his heart. “What should I call you then?”

Now Massu looks thoughtful. “I’ve always thought it would be nice for you to call me by my name – Taka.”

“Taka-kun,” Tegoshi tries out, and feels things he doesn’t understand.

“Just Taka,” Massu insists.

“Okay. Taka.” Tegoshi smiles, a real one, and Massu’s face lights up. “You should call me Yuuya then. Since we are… friends?”

“Yes,” Massu says, his grin filling Tegoshi with warmth. “We’re friends.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but Tegoshi thinks this is a good time to part. “See you tomorrow, Taka,” he says cheerfully, just more subdued than what Massu considers ‘normal’, and offers a wave before continuing on his way.

Later that night, under the privacy of his covers, Tegoshi admits to himself the reason why he’d clung so desperately to his careless, confident NEWS role to begin with. He was only eighteen when he was pushed into a side unit with Massu, fresh out of high school and still wide-eyed at the world despite having a few years of performing under his belt. Being one of two is much different than being one of eight, after all.

And being one of two makes it much easier to fall in love.

*

It’s not because he’s also a man. Tegoshi doesn’t differentiate much that way; he knew at a young age he was attracted to boys as much as girls, and that was that. He wasn’t interested in slapping a label on himself, or anyone else really, which is part of the reason why he dropped psychology. But there are certain qualities in men that he likes, such as the chivalry and being held, but at the same time the softness of girls and the protective urges he gets with them are just as nice.

When it comes to Massu, though, he likes everything. He likes how Massu is so particular about things, even when he gets crabby about it. He likes Massu because Massu is everything he’s _not_ , most of all real. Massu’s not afraid to be himself whether there’s a camera or not. He’s not embarrassed when no one gets his jokes. He speaks his mind when he feels things, whether good or bad.

Massu is the epitome of what an idol should be, and all of these years Tegoshi had clung to a hope that Massu was just playing to his role, too. Waxing poetic about gyoza and making puns and saying otherwise ridiculous things. Even the heartfelt singing, Tegoshi had fooled himself into believing it was forced, that Massu couldn’t possibly feel that strongly about their lyrics and was overdoing it on purpose to appeal to the fangirls who like to cling to sympathy.

He can’t decide whether he’s relieved or disappointed that it’s all real, because that’s the Massu he fell in love with and it would be easier to let go if it was just an image.

His conflicting emotions continue through NEWS’ next single, and as happy as Tegoshi is that they’re getting steady work again, it gets more and more difficult to keep up the act. He’s so paranoid that one of these days he’s going to say something un-Tegoshi-like on television that he focuses all of his energy on on-camera faces only, leaving none for backstage and rehearsal.

It’s not just Massu who notices, either. Koyama remarks about Tegoshi’s ‘off switch’ being on for longer than usual and worries that he’s not eating well, while Shige sighs happily and declares that Tegoshi has been much more pleasant lately. He knows that Massu talks to them while Tegoshi is recording one day because they’re much nicer to him from that point on, and Tegoshi doesn’t understand why. It’s not like he’s sick. He’s not upset, or depressed, or pitiful in any way.

He just has a lot of feelings. Tegoshi supposes they’re making up for the years they were pushed to the back of his mind, as not to taint the overconfident aura of NEWS’ Tegoshi. At least they’ve seemed to even themselves out now, leaving him feeling much more emotionally stable. This could be okay, if the whole world didn’t already have a completely different perception of him.

Then there was the whole being in love with Massu thing, which likes to remind Tegoshi of its existence every time Massu is in the room. Koyama’s hell bent on continuing his member love brigade, and with all the work they’re all doing together, Tegoshi spends more time with the three of them than he does sleeping. Sometimes the two are combined.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this insecurity,” Massu’s saying, and Tegoshi narrows his eyes in defense. “I don’t mean that in a bad way,” Massu rushes to say, “but you were always so confident and now you’re honestly sitting here wondering why people give a crap about you now.”

“That’s not what I said,” Tegoshi argues. Being insulted is a new feeling, too, one which he doesn’t like very much. “I just said that Koyama and Shige are nicer to me now that I’m not an insufferable brat.”

“Did you ever stop to think that they like you better now?” Massu asks, gaping facetiously like it’s a big discovery. “You said so yourself – you were an insufferable brat. Even though I was hurt from being lied to for so long, I have to admit that I feel the same way they do. I really enjoy spending time with you now, Yuuya.”

Tegoshi ignores the way his heart flops. “I’m sorry I hurt you-”

“Water under the bridge,” Massu says decidedly, and that’s that. “Besides, it was your love for NEWS that brought back your feelings, so I can’t be mad at that. Though I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

“There’s not much to know, honestly,” Tegoshi says sheepishly. “My hobbies and favorites are still the same -”

“That’s not what I mean,” Massu interrupts, and Tegoshi can’t read the look in his eyes. “I don’t know _you_ , Yuuya. I can’t predict how you’re going to react to things anymore, and I don’t know how to talk to you like this. I never had to worry about upsetting you before.”

“You’re not going to upset me,” Tegoshi tells him. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I’m not over-emotional, you know. You’re just not used to me having feelings.”

“Yeah, so I don’t want to hurt them.” Massu offers a small smile. “It’s not a bad thing, Yuuya. Feelings are precious, aren’t they?”

Tegoshi thinks Massu’s smile is infectious, because now he’s wearing one without knowing why. “Yeah they are.”

*

Summer brings a concert tour that is a lot of hard work and even more fun.

At the last show, they thank the fans for waiting for them, and Tegoshi’s the first one to tear up.

Massu’s arms are around him first, then Koyama’s, and he laughs when Shige awkwardly pets his head.

“This was the hardest on our youngest,” Koyama says. “He wants to show you all a cool face, but his overflowing love for NEWS cannot be denied.”

The shocked applause rings in Tegoshi’s ears for long after the tour ends, and his smile no longer feels foreign on his own face.

It’s the best tour ever.

*

“Do you think I just grew up?” Tegoshi asks seriously, laying on his back in the grass and watching as autumn turns to winter.

An elbow nudges him. “I don’t think you’ll ever grow up.”

Tegoshi laughs, turning to the side for a poke and finding soft brown eyes looking back at him. “I don’t want to grow up. Growing up means letting go of unattainable dreams.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like your old self,” Massu teases, his voice low and quiet. “You’re already a famous idol – what more do you want?”

“Love,” Tegoshi answers honestly. “The kind you grow old with.”

Massu scoffs, and Tegoshi thinks it may be the most bitterness he’s ever seen expressed from the other man. “At this rate, the four of us will all grow old together.”

“That would be okay, too,” Tegoshi says. He doesn’t bother filtering himself anymore; Massu can tell when he’s holding things back anyway. “Or just you.”

Only the wind answers him, swirling the leaves above them, and Tegoshi watches the clouds intently as they blow across the sky. Then all he sees are Massu’s eyes.

“Tell me the truth,” he demands, and it’s so reminiscent of the Truth Man that Tegoshi just laughs, his amusement growing as Massu’s face gradually gets more frustrated, at least until Tegoshi grabs him by the ears and pulls him down to press their lips together.

Massu gasps and it’s the single most gorgeous sound Tegoshi’s ever heard, followed by the soft moan that dies in the back of Massu’s throat as he reciprocates full force. Massu kisses like he sings, all feeling and no concern to how intense he comes off, and Tegoshi wouldn’t have him any other way.

Tegoshi’s hands find their way in Massu’s hair and Massu’s cup his face, heads tilting as lips part and tongues touch. It’s the single most emotional kiss of Tegoshi’s life and he never wants it to end, though if Massu’s vehement passion is any indication, there will be many more to come.

The sky is darkening when they finally part, breathless and warm despite the cooler weather, and Tegoshi curls up to Massu’s chest like it’s a magnetic reaction.

“I don’t know what to say,” Tegoshi says honestly, feeling Massu’s heartbeat gradually slow down from a quick thumping.

“You just said it,” Massu replies, and Tegoshi doesn’t bother to hide the stars in his eyes.

It’s because of them that he can’t stop smiling.

*

The day Tegoshi turns twenty-five, he learns how it feels to be in love. He’d thought he already known, but apparently he hadn’t, not anywhere near close. These indescribable feelings are all brand new as he feels Massu all around him – inside him – and he still feels like he can’t get close enough. It’s hot and powerful and he doesn’t know anything but Massu, the weight of his body and the depth of his voice, the force of his thrusts and the ferocity of his kiss.

And it’s real.


End file.
